


Boxer's Fists

by Rebel_Atar



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fisting, In which Jehan is Bahorel's laughing mistress, Kinktober, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 16:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21148634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Atar/pseuds/Rebel_Atar
Summary: Bahorel and Jehan unwind together.





	Boxer's Fists

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2019 prompt: fisting
> 
> Had real trouble deciding which way round I wanted this. If anyone is interested in seeing the reverse please let me know.

He started out slow. He had to really.

Bahorel’s hands were enormous enough as it is, but once you added in all the callouses from years of boxing, and the slight swelling still left over from his last match. Well, it was a lot to take.

Jehan had brought with them a new oil. At least they had said it was an oil, it was a lot more solid than oils generally were in Bahorel’s experience. Closer to a butter, or a paste. Yet as soon as he scooped some onto his hands it did indeed melt into an oil, releasing fragrant herbs that had been mixed in. He decided he liked it, if it worked as intended.

Though he was curious as to where Jehan had managed to get such a thing in times like these. Perhaps his mistress had their own secrets. More than even he knew. Bahorel grinned at the thought. It would be a joy to discover them. A joy hopefully filled with Jehan’s laughter, as always.

He spread the oil gently across their little furl or skin, massaging it in until their muscles began to relax and Jehan was pushing back against him a little, wanting more. Bahorel scooped out more oil and ensured his fingers were liberally coated. Then he gently pressed one into Jehan’s body, working it slowly and easily into the welcoming warmth.

Jehan let out a little breathy sigh and Bahorel added a second finger. He twisted his wrist, stretching and scissoring them to open his mistress up. Each time he brushed past Jehan’s prostrate they moaned quietly. He couldn’t wait to have them screaming. He slicked his hand with some more oil and worked in a third finger, feeling the poet tremble beneath him.

Jehan was excited, thinking about what was to come and Bahorel fully intended to deliver. He spread his fingers, slowly opening Jehan up enough that he could see into them through the gap he was creating. Fuck but the thought made his cock throb. Jehan was beautiful, as always. A little more oil and a grinding tease to their prostate to keep them relaxed and Bahorel had four fingers in.

He pressed his thumb to his palm and, after working Jehan over a little longer, finally slid his hand all the way inside. The poet moaned and shook, muscles spasming around his hand. Once they had calmed a little he began to thrust, spreading his hand out slowly caused gasping breaths and shaky moans and soon he was ever so slowly closing his hand into a fist.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well.” He praised his lover with a kiss to their spine. Jehan’s eloquent words were long gone now. All they were capable of were pants and moans.

Bahorel began a slow pace, working his fist in deep before slowly dragging it back, the bony protrusion of his wrist joint rubbed hard against Jehan’s prostate with each calculated twist of his wrist. Soon all Jehan could do was buck back against him wildly, deliriously chasing their pleasure as their moans spiralled up into screams and Bahorel wrung an earth shattering orgasm out of them, soaking the bedsheets.

Each continued thrust of his fist forcing out another lazy trail of come. Slowly, eventually, he uncurled his fist and carefully withdrew. Jehan lay flushed and sweating on the sheets, breathing heavily. The boxer never tired of such a beautiful sight.


End file.
